


Wanton Kittens

by SoleminiSanction



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Consensual Hypnotism, Dom/sub, Identity Porn, Kinky, M/M, Master/Pet, Near Future, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Vibrators, yet weirdly wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18691018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoleminiSanction/pseuds/SoleminiSanction
Summary: Tim and Damian used to have a more tempestuous relationship. They've grown past that.Tim also used to be jealous of Damian's pets, but not for the reason you'd think. They've gotten past that too, in their own way.





	Wanton Kittens

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted kitty-pet Tim, okay? Be the change you want to see in the world.   
> I have no idea what age they are here, just assume they're both legal.

Damian arrives at Wayne Tower well after business hours, when most everyone save the evening security team has gone home. He lets himself in via corporate I.D., nods to the woman who greets him from the security booth, and strides straight for the the private elevator at the building's heart, the one that leads to the executive offices on the upper floors.

It’s a swift rise, but still long enough that he takes the time to set down his matte black briefcase and remove his cufflinks, tucking them into the pocket of his suit. From the small screen below the floor buttons, a tiny image of himself does the same from the live projection of the cab’s security feed. It’s an unspoken warning to visitors: there is nowhere in this building you can go and not be watched. Not even the offices of the most high.

Damian smirks at the thought. Knowing his partner, Timothy would have re-routed the security footage from his office hours ago, playing back a series of timed sequences programmed to match Damian’s arrival and their eventual departure. There will be footage of this, after, but only on their secure personal servers. No one else could be permitted witness, not even for security.

When the doors open, he picks up his briefcase and strides into the dim, silent corridor. He ignores the locked doors bearing the names of his father and Lucius Fox and crosses instead to only one from which a faint light still shines. Making no move to knock, he steps inside and finds Timothy as he’d expected: slumped upon one of the leather couches normally used for interviews or important guests. His suit coat lies across the back cushions opposite his cozy corner. His tie, cuffs and collar have been loosened, and his ears are covered by high-end sound-dampening headphones.

At first glance, he appears to be asleep. Damian knows better. He places his briefcase on the coffee table, lowers the light setting to a comfortable dim, and bends down to examine Timothy's eyes. They're half-open, fluttering with his even breaths. His limbs are limp and his body languid. He makes no move to respond to Damian’s presence, and won’t until the moment he is touched. That’s the trigger, after all, and the deep hypnotic trance has clearly taken a firm hold.

A lump forms in Damian's throat. Timothy enjoys their games, has enjoyed them ever since they hammered their relationship out from sibling rivalry to secret affection. But he also drowns in a host of psychological blocks that make it difficult for him to let go, to relax and forget his responsibilities, abandon shame and enjoy their scenes. And while some nights they both benefit from the work of degrading him into submission, on others they've fought enough in their real lives and need only to relax.

Hence the hypnosis. It was Tim's suggestion and Damian's technique, adjusted from one he'd learned with the League of Assassins. They'd taken every precaution beforehand, from the private security feed to a book-length contract detailing every hard limit they could think of. Still, the sheer and absolute trust Timothy displays in willingly making himself so vulnerable always swells Damian's heart with affection and, briefly, self-doubt. Years ago, he wouldn’t have been worthy of such trust. He fears there will be a future when he won’t be again. But for now, for tonight, he is determined to prove that it is not misplaced.

Carefully, he lowers the track volume on Tim’s phone until the recording of his own voice fades to silence. He removes the headphones, places them on the coffee table, and begins petting Timothy's hair.

"Beloved...?"

The older man stirs, nuzzling Damian's hand as it drifts lower to stroke his cheek and jaw. A growl rumbles in his throat as a rough approximation of a purr. He looks up, eyes pale and bright above a lazy smile.

"Meeer-oow."

Damian smirks and ducks to kiss his lover’s brow. "Good kitty. Sit up now, come on."

Timothy does as he's told, spine curling in a languid stretch. He lifts his head so that Damian can easily reach his clothes, starting with the tie. It and his shirt-collar come away to reveal a strap of red leather around Timothy's neck. Damian slides his fingers behind it to test the fit and, satisfied that it’s not too tight, proceeds to divest his lover of first the tie, then his belt, then shoes and socks.

He sets each piece aside and slides Tim out of his shirt before opening the black briefcase. From within, he plucks a headband adorned with soft, triangular ears coated in fake fur. He tucks it amid Timothy’s hair. His fingers slide down the sides of that pale, pretty face, lingering long enough for another kiss — this one on the nose — which wins a second content purr from his kitten. Then he holds his arm straight up and jingles a favorite toy — a fluffy ball with feathers and bell — well over Timothy’s head.

Pale eyes snap up, locking on the toy with a rumble of interest. Damian uses the distraction to undo his lover’s fly with the other hand, then gives the bell another shake and tosses it off to one side, where it clatters to the floor.

Timothy bolts, pouncing on the toy with both hands. He bats it about, grips it in his teeth and shakes it, mewling in delight at its noise. All the while his ass is in the air, wriggling in anticipation of another pounce as he tosses the toy up, catches it, and returns to his batting.

Damian takes the opportunity to step behind Tim and slide the pants off his rear and legs. A long black tail falls out, sewn into the rear seam of Timothy’s tight black boxers. It swishes back and forth with the movement of his ass, a teasing hint of what’s to come.

Damian leaves his kitten to the toy and steps aside, neatly folding Timothy’s clothes before adding his own shoes, coat and tie to the pile. He settles on the opposite couch, pushes the coffee table away to make room, and sets about undoing buttons and removing accessories until he’s comfortable, though by the end he remains fully clothed.

Once settled, he clicks his tongue twice and pats his right knee. “Here, kitty kitty.”

Timothy pads back on all fours, carrying the toy in his mouth. He jingles it once before placing it proudly in Damian’s outstretched palm. Then, he presses his neck into Damian’s leg and starts rubbing. He runs his whole body along both of Damian’s legs twice before settling back on his haunches and nuzzling the inside of Damian’s knee.

The role suits him. Long, lean and languid, he is grace personified even on his hands and knees. The elegant lines of his spine and hips are only enhanced by the black accents and the continued movement of his long, flowing tail. His muscles hold none of their usual tension. Deep in the hypnosis-enhanced subspace, he is — for once — at total peace, eager to love on and be adored by his beloved human master.

Damian runs fingers through Timothy’s hair, admiring the way his touch-soft fur drifts and shine in the dim light. He scratches the sensitive spot behind his right ear. Timothy purrs.

“Such a sweet boy. Do you want some milk?”

Tim meows and paws at Damian’s thigh, one cheek still pressed against his knee. Damian chuckles, opens his fly and slides out his bare cock.

“Go on, then.”

Timothy gives another mew before leaning in on his loose-fisted “paws.” He laps eagerly at Damian’s tip, teasing all around the sensitive head with tiny, delicate licks. Damian groans, leaning back and spreading his knees as his length hardens under the attention.

Thorough as ever, Tim wets every speck of the head at least once before swirling his tongue around and drawing it into his mouth for one, two light dips with just a hint of suction. His shoulders begin to roll as he kneads the plush floor rug, purring as he nuzzles his master’s cock and begins lapping his way down the length. Damian strokes his hair with strong fingers and encouraging groans, echoed by mewls as the nuzzles turn to open mouthing, which trail from the base back up to the tip and then down again the opposite side.

Just as the teasing grows old, Timothy sinks down over the head and more, gazing up at his master with adoring moon-bright eyes. His paws move from the floor to the couch, kneading the cushioned leather as he bobs, taking only half the cock each time and letting the tip bump against the roof of his mouth. He mewls around it, his tongue darting out to trace the underside veins.

“Good kitty,” Damian groans, his petting turning to carding fingers, careful of the precariously-perched ears. “Beautiful. So good. A bit more now, deeper…”

Timothy swallows him deeper, stopping only when his nose finds Damian’s hair and the cock-head is pressed into his throat. He closes his eyes and mewls, holding the position as his nails dig into the couch.

Damian comes with only a bit more effort, allowing his kitten to bob and suck at will right up until he pulls Timothy back by his collar and sprays white over his face, shoulders and hair. Timothy catches the last few drops on his tongue before settling back on his haunches once more. He grooms contentedly, first lapping milk from his shoulders, then pawing at his face and cleaning those of white too. He purrs the entire time.

Soon, Damian catches his breath and brings his pounding heart back under control. He tucks himself away and gets his appearance back in order before rising again, patting Timothy’s head as he steps around. He moves the open briefcase from the table to the floor and sinks down alongside it, settling cross-legged on the rug with a fair bit of space to all sides.

Timothy perks up, crawls into Damian’s lap and eagerly nuzzles his chest. He’s been a perfect fit there ever since Damian’s final growth spurt. Those strong, caring hands stroke him all down his spine, earning shivers of delight as the scratches linger at his ass, tickling the fabric at his boxer’s waistline.

With his other hand, Damian jingles the bell-toy again, luring Timothy further until he’s laid out with the toy in his paws and his ass in Damian’s lap. His master tugs the boxers off his hips and down, exposing both ass and the hardening cock that now presses against his nice slacks. As Timothy bats around his toy, Damian secures a leather cock-ring around the base of his dick, just tight enough to lend some much-needed control. He follows it with a steady dribble of warm lube, sliding down and in to Timothy’s ass as he works first one, then two fingers inside.

It’s a slow, meticulous process, but one they both enjoy. Tim basks in his owner’s undivided attention, wriggling and mewling with his jingling toy; while Damian indulges in his lover’s soft skin, nuzzling it with his cheek even as his fingers work the insides deeper and wider.

On the third finger, Timothy sends the toy flying and yowls, his ass rising to meet the searching prods. Damian takes that as further permission to work him a little harder before replacing his fingers with a familiar dildo, the one that usually adorns the harness with Tim's tail. Tonight, however, the familiar black length is nowhere to be seen. It’s just red silicone and copious lube, working his sensitive hole further and further open.

Instead, the tail makes its appearance attached to a new toy, one that Damian passes in front of Timothy’s eyes until the panting kitten focuses on and acknowledges it. Even without the hypnosis, Timothy’s subspace often renders him non-verbal. It’s the one time his brilliant, so often exhausted mind shuts down and allows him to feel the full extent of every moment. That rarely leaves space for silly things like words. But even Kitty knows how to say no, and Damian will always give him that chance.

So he holds the new plug, fresh from its package, under Timothy’s gaze until he takes in its shape, size, and the faint lights of its remote vibrator functions. He mewls and noses at it, asking to be used.

“All right. Get ready.” Damian leans to kiss the back of his kitten’s neck. He stills the dildo deep inside, pressed up against what he thinks the prostate, and bites down.

Timothy keens, spine curving as he lifts both head and ass. His commitment to the mannerisms is Damian’s favorite part of their play, one that he rewards with a firmer bite and some soothing licks as he eases out the dildo.

The new toy is a tad slower going in, carefully lubed up and eased with slow, sturdy twists so Timothy has time to adjust. At one point, he hisses and snaps at Damian’s hand. Damian pauses and soothes him with hair-stroking until the pain passes and he’s relaxed enough to continue.

Once it’s finally in and secure, Damian takes his hands away and permits Tim to ease off his lap. The kitten paces, twisting on the spot to catch a glimpse of his new tail and shaking his ass until it swings. All the while, the plug stays firm. A perfect fit.

Damian gives him a few minutes to get used to the intrusion before sliding the remote from his briefcase and turning the vibration onto its lowest setting. A shiver runs up Timothy’s spine, becoming a throaty yowl by the time it reaches his head. He curls his spine, digs his claws into the rug and rubs his cheek against it, ass wriggling in the air.

Damian obliges, raising the intensity another notch and switching to a pulses that run up the plug’s sides. Timothy thrusts his hips, his restrained cock bobbing in the open air. After realizing the futility, he settles again, knees sliding open wide as a mix of lube and pre-cum drip onto the floor.

They only get to try out two more settings before a new vibration interrupts: the one from Damian’s coat pocket, accompanied by a ridiculous dubstep ringtone Grayson insisted on installing in his phone.

Damian considers ignoring it, but he set the blasted thing to block all calls for the night except those that came from the family. Sure enough, the incoming number is from one of Red Hood’s burners. Whatever Todd wants, it must be important.

“Tt.”

He digs a ball gag from the briefcase, pushing the red rubber deep into Timothy's mouth before he latches black leather in place. Then he hooks a leash to the collar, ties its other end around the table leg, and stands.

“Sorry, Kitten. I need to take this.”

Timothy grabs his pant legs with both paws and whines. Damian tuts in disapproval and raises the vibrations to their maximum setting, earning a yowl that the gag muffles with ease. Timothy continues to cling, digging claws into the fabric until thin lines are left when Damian shakes him off and steps away.

“Yes, Todd?” he asks, settling behind Timothy’s desk. He keeps his back to the wide windows and turns away from the office proper to minimize the noise picked up by the phone.

“Yo, demon. Sorry to bother ya on your day off. Didn’t wanna risk waking Drake, you know he needs all the rest he can get.”

From the floor, Timothy howls like a queen in heat. Spit bubbles around the ball gag and drips down his chin.

“Quite.” Damian holds the phone between his shoulder and ear and boots up Tim’s computer with a click of the mouse. Two passwords and a fingerprint scan get him into the secure Bat-network connections, including the Cave server up-link and all the cases Red Robin has been handling on his own. “What is it that you need? And make it quick, I have more important matters to attend to.”

Despite those words, he takes his time answering Todd’s queries, even going so far as to dig into research that would normally be transferred to Oracle or the Birds of Prey. It takes a solid half-hour, during which Damian consistently fiddles with the toy’s remote, raising and lowering the intensity at random as he rotates through the settings and patterns. Only a single piercing yowl hits loud enough for Todd to hear through the phone. Damian blames it on Alfred-the-Cat. The toy remains on that setting until his kitten is reduced to quiet whimpers.

Once the work is finally done, he bids goodnight to Todd, turns the phone completely off, and leaves it on the desk as he returns to the seating area. No one is watching, but if anyone were, he would be the picture of professional confidence.

His partner, not so much.

Timothy lies on his side, cock dripping and nails tangled in Damian’s suit-coat, which he must have pulled down at some point in his frustrations. He’s buried his head inside it, drooling around the gag without care for the interior lining. His yowls have turned to quivering little mewls, and his ass twitches sporadically around the buzzing tail.

Damian kneels, stroking Timothy’s hair. Tim nuzzles into his touch and bumps the ball gag against his fingers. When Damian removes it, his kitten licks at his palm.

His other hand drifts to Timothy’s crotch, its fingertips gently touching — and only touching — the swollen red shaft. Timothy bites his lip to hold in a whimper. Tiny tear tracks drip from his eyes.

“All that and you still haven’t come?” Damian smiles — not a smirk, but a real, genuine smile. “What a good kitten you are. So good and so beautiful and all mine.”

Timothy’s pale cheeks flush an ever-deeper crimson under Damian’s hand. This all began with his hesitant, half-shamed admission of jealousy towards Damian’s pets, not just for the attention they received but for the way they belonged to him and so easily brought out his kindness. Even now, after a half-dozen scenes and so deep in the throes of his sub-space, there’s little that seems to touch him more than being the singular, treasured focus of that smile.

“Good pets deserve a reward,” Damian says, removing the leash and nudging Tim off his coat so he can fold and set it out of clawing range. “Show me want you want, precious. I’ll have you any way you like.”

In answer, Timothy rolls onto his stomach and creeps his knees back under him until his ass is once more raised. With face and elbows pressed to the rug, he tosses his hips until the tail flips onto his back, displaying his trembling hole and aching, swollen cock.

“You’re sure? You know what that would mean. Do you really want my cum inside you all nig—”

Timothy yowls loud enough that the whole floor could hear, if there were anyone else around.

Damian chuckles. “All right. Hold position.”

He moves behind him, checking to make sure the lube is still warm before re-opening his fly and slicking himself up. He lifts the tail and holds it straight, pulling gently until his kitten can feel the pressure, like a real tail being pulled. He rubs his slick shaft along Timothy’s balls and cock, earning a few desperate pants. The plug continues to vibrate right until he shuts it off and gently works it free.

He lines himself up with the newly-open hole and bends over his pet, pressing bare back to clothed chest. He catches and pins the thin wrists, nudges the collar up to press kisses into Timothy’s neck, and searches out the perfect, most sensitive patch of skin before he bites down. In the same fluid motion, he sheaths himself entirely inside.

Timothy yowls, rolling his hips back to match Damian’s thrust. The master tightens his hold with teeth, weight and hands, holding them still until he’s sure, absolutely certain, that the change in penetration won’t hurt them. Then he starts moving, slow at first but building speed with every other thrust.

Soon, Damian has to lift his head and torso to get the force they both desire, setting a brutal pace as he searches for just the right angle. He keeps Timothy pinned by the wrists, which the pet makes no move to fight. He moves only to spread his legs a bit wider, pressing one side of his face into the rug as he pants, open-mouthed, with an expression of pure and undisguised bliss.

Damian shifts and finally earns a strangled cry. He keeps pushing, keeps pounding at that spot, hard and fast, knowing he won’t last, not while lost in his Beloved’s warm, slick heat. Timothy’s cries mix with mewls and yowls, his nails digging deep into the rug, locking him in place. Damian releases his wrists and supports himself with one strong arm as its partner reaches between his lover’s legs and at last un-snaps the ring from his cock.

With a palm still slick from preparing himself, Damian grasps the aching length and gives it one, two, three hard pumps. Tim tosses back his head and comes with a near-silent, gasping howl. Thick ribbons of built-up passion coat Damian’s fingers and pool upon the floor.

Not long after, his master follows suit, bottoming out and blowing his final load as deep inside as he can. Panting, Damian first lowers himself to his elbows, then rolls to one side and takes Timothy with him without pulling out. They spoon on the soft rug, Damian’s strong limbs doing their damnedest to wrap every inch of Timothy into their hold. He nuzzles the soft hair, breathes deep of his Beloved’s scent, and happily sighs.

He’s almost dozed off when Timothy shifts — not to escape, but still enough to draw attention. Damian cracks open an eye to find that Timothy has gathered some of the cum — his own, he thinks, mixed with some of what had escaped — in one paw and is lazily licking it up. He doesn’t have the breath left to purr, yet his languid expression and lazy, half-lidded eyes ooze pure contentment.

Damian chuckles, pressing a kiss into Timothy’s hair just behind where the fake ears, remarkably, still perch. “Good kitty,” he whispers, and closes his eyes once more.

* * *

After, the plug is cleaned and re-lubed before they ease it back in, trapping the bulk of Damian's load. He sets the vibration to a low, steady hum, which Timothy echoes with purrs for as long as he can. They clean up the worst of the mess, then spend the rest of the night on the couch, with Damian skimming work files on his tablet while Timothy dozes in his lap.

At just before three A.M., an alert on the tablet pops up to warn Damian that the cleaning crew will arrive in thirty minutes to prepare the office for a new day. He sighs, sets the machine aside, turns the vibrator off, and coaxes Tim awake with a light shake.

“Beloved, it's time to put Kitty away now.”

Timothy buries his head under his hands and meows in protest.

“I know, but we must. For propriety's sake.” Damian tugs the hands aside, cups his lover’s chin in both palms, and leans in until he dominates Timothy’s line of sight. “Now close your eyes, and listen to the sound of my voice.”

Even reluctant, Timothy does as he’s told.

“Good. Now relax, clear your mind, and picture the place where Timothy goes when Kitty comes out to play.” He pauses, watching the twitches beneath Timothy’s lids until he’s certain the image has settled in that brilliant mind. “I will count up from one. On three, Kitty goes back to that safe place, and Timothy will open his eyes. All right? On three. One.

“Two.

“Three.”

The older man sighs in a deeper voice than Damian has heard all night. His eyes flicker open, blinking away the last specks of moonlight before finally focusing on Damian’s gaze. Then he surges forward, capturing Damian's lips in a kiss that is all tongue and nothing at all like a cat’s.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he mutters when they break for breath, their lips still brushing with every word.

Damian only chuckles, because of course, he asks himself the same thing.


End file.
